Future to Past
by outerelf
Summary: It was a dangerous time; every one knew that constant vigilance was the key to survival. To trust was the put your life in danger. To consider another your friend was akin to signing your own death warrant... At least that's what he thought.
1. The Beginning

He knew he had always been the one cursed to be the odd one out.

The mech's optics silently tracked the movements of those around him as his fingers nervously twisted beside him, calculating and then recalculating the possibilities of the chance that anyone would be able to jump him at this distance.

Finding the chance to be below fifty percent, he decided that it would be best to remain where he was- "Red! How many times do I have to tell ya, don't stand there!"

The red and white mech turned around to see a slightly red mech strolling casually towards him. Where one hand once was, there was a soft, thrumming noise of a cannon warming up. The pale optics glowed just barely with life, the setting as low as anyone dared to make it without going blind.

"I know. But I was just calculating the possibilities, and I decided that I have fast enough reflexes, that if anyone ever did jump, I would be able to move out of the way in time."

As he spoke, he ducked just in time to miss what would've been a stinging blow to the head. "See?"

The other grimaced. "You're too trusting, Red. And one of these days it's gonna get you killed."

The blue optics flashed slightly. "I am _not_ too trusting!"

In a chorus, the mechs in the room spoke, "Yes, you are."

One of the mechs sitting in the corner held up his fingers, "Let's see: One, you don't walk with your back against a solid wall if you're passing through a crowded hallway. Two, you say there must at least be three mechs for a hallway to be crowded- that's two more above the regular. Three…"

Red Alert sighed as he waved a hand. "Yes Prowl, I know."

Prowl broke off his list, before his pale optics turned to the mech standing at least an arm's length away from him. "Jazz, what do you want?"

"Just wanted you to know that we've got a problem with the twins."

Interest perked the room. The twins, besides Red Alert, were two of the more trusting mechs they had ever met. A mech with a red cross painted boldly on his shoulder spoke, "What's the matter, Jazz?"

Despite the fact that he was a medic, and thereby none would touch him, the mech kept a careful vigilance of his own invisible bubble. It was better safe then sorry after all.

"They started fighting each other-" An rare occurrence, seeing how the two depended on each other to make sure they stayed safe "-and neither side will break down and admit it's their fault."

"That isn't something any of us can handle. Each to their own problems."

"Yeah, but I know that with Cliffjumper gone, and him being _the_ most trusting mech, I was hoping that I could convince Red to get close. They don't feel threatened by him."

"Well I feel threatened by them." Red Alert bit out rudely, "They'll take any chance they have at tearing me apart."

Inferno nodded from beside him, as Red Alert scuttled away from his 'friend'.

All knew the law. If they were close enough to shoot, then they were too close.

Jazz shrugged. "Yeah, well, I'd rather not get anywhere near that close. Besides, you often do such things…" Jazz looked at him, slightly hopefully, and Red Alert sighed miserably.

_Everyone's right, I really am too trusting._ "Very well, Jazz; I'll go take a look, but no promises on whether or not I'll say anything."

Behind him, he could hear Inferno groan softly. He could feel the optics going heavenward for patience as the crew stared at one of the most trusting members of the Ark.

Red Alert scurried out of the room, ready to duck and dodge any blows that came his way. They let him pass unmolested, for which he was grateful.

The door slid open to an empty hallway, and he rushed down it, auditory receptors straining to catch even the slightest sound that might alert him to some one jumping out of the shadows-!

Red Alert went rolling as an energon knife cleanly pierced the metal decking. The attacking minibot whirled, an almost crazed look in his optics, before he jerked the knife up into subspace. "Hello Red; I see your reaction timing hasn't gotten any worse."

"Bumblebee. I see that your knife work remains the same." Red Alert warily countered.

The minibot shrugged, even as he began sliding back into the ducts that oftentimes served as the Ark's second set of passages. "I'll get you one of these days. I don't trust you; you're much too innocent to be what you really claim to be."

Red Alert's teeth bared in an appropriate paranoid gesture. "That's what you think."

An echoing growl, and the minibot was gone. Red Alert's shoulders slumped as he stared upwards, before he shook his head. Bumblebee had long since been considered crazy, and that was the main reason he wasn't liked.

Only the soft tap of metal on metal warned him to turn, grappling with empty air. A curse arose from the emptiness. "Mirage." Red Alert hissed. This one…this one he was certain was a traitor, along with the rest of the crew. Only Cliffjumper refused to see that the mech was a traitor, much to Red Alert's sorrow.

The minibot had to grow up sometime, however, even if that sentence was mostly applied to the Lamborghini. There were still times he had to wonder why he had been promoted to Chief of Security, though his track record was nearly perfect.

"Red Alert."

It was a daily ritual. Each of the Ark's crewmembers would randomly jump each other to make certain that vigilance and paranoia kept running strong. Not that anyone really needed any jumping. The very knowledge that the enemy could reach into the CPU and reprogram them into blindly obeying was paranoia enough-

It was absolutely terrifying, loosing First Aid, and his entire gestalt to the enemy through that. They had retaliated; found a way to counter, but every day it was getting harder to hold out against the enemy.

"What do you think you're doing, Mirage?" Red Alert hissed angrily, attempting to keep the Noblemech pinned down.

Mirage threw him off, and escaped down the hallway, either seeking easier prey, or looking for Bumblebee. Crazy OP's mechs. "Bumblebee is in the vents!"

There was no answer, but Red Alert had the pleasure of seeing a grill float down to rest against the wall. With a smirk, Red Alert turned to continue down the hallway when Wheeljack's voice began to scream down the hallway. "It's going to blow! It's going to blow! Everyone, duck for cover!"

Red Alert's optics widened as the engineer sprinted past him, even as he dove for one of the conveniently placed blast rooms.

Instead, to his surprise, he found himself hurtling straight out the doorway, and out onto a busy street.

For a confused moment, he lay against the cool metal, hearing voices stop, feeling eyes turn to look at him. His optics darted around in fear.

The buildings…were all miraculously undamaged and standing straight and firm. The ground wasn't a broken, weeping thing damaged by bombs and fights. Instead it was smooth and strong, the metal thrumming with lively energy. Femmes and mechs strolled arm in arm together, along with… _Are those minibots?_

Red Alert stared directly at the tiny beings, before shaking his head. No, they weren't. They were something else… His optics widened as he realized what he was looking at.

The Legendary Sparklings and Younglings. Cybertronian children from before the war, when mechs were rich enough and had enough time to actually create bonds with their creations.

If they so chose. Red Alert couldn't imagine what stupidity went with that sort of thoughts, but even so…

With a low groan he shakily rose to his feet, scanning the area. He was quite literally surrounded by the piercing optics, and the whispering. _Get a grip Red, those aren't real barriers._ The mental voice that chided him sounded eerily like Inferno.

Red Alert shook his head, before backing up a step. Had Wheeljack's invention created a rip in the dimensions?

Scowling, frowning mechs, garishly painted in black and white began storming out of the crowd. Red Alert nearly whimpered in fear. Police Forces were often brutal.

He turned, and ran straight through the crowd, leaping over a small group of Younglings playing together. Shrieks of surprise echoed behind him, marking his trail into the crowd as he shoved his way through.

Distantly he was aware others were staring at the shoulder-mounted cannon, but he didn't see what was so unusual about it…

Moments later, he realized no one else had such a thing. All of them were brightly colored, certainly, but not a single one had any visible weapons. The cannon would continue to attract stares unless he got rid of it _right now_.

Internally bracing himself for the pain about to come, Red Alert ripped off the entire set, leaving sparking wires in his wake. Hastily, he shoved the cannon into subspace, and pulled out rubbery bandages to stop the loss of both electricity and energon.

A dark alleyway beckoned to him, promising him temporary respite from the crowd. Hastily, he slid into it, spark pumping loudly. He had to get out of here, he had to get out of here…

A hand descended onto his uninjured shoulder, and he jumped, looking up directly into an expression he had never seen before. The police officer said softly, "C'mon, calm down, we aren't here to arrest you-"

Red Alert's knee came up sharply to slam against the inside of the legs where Ironhide had once mentioned there being a weak point. The officer doubled over, hands clutching at the spot. Red Alert backed up, entire body thrumming with energy. "Oh crap, oh slag, oh no-" He whimpered, before fleeing further down the alleyway.

Behind him, he could hear the officer call for help, but it was blotted out by the other sounds that rumbled from around him.

It was as if the entire city was filled with mechs, unafraid to hide instead of the usual cowering Neutrals.

There was a sharp sound from behind him, and he ducked the device threatening to send him unconscious. The police officer cursed, "You're a fast one, aren't you?"

"Of course I am, after all, everyone's after me, I'm the only sane one left, well, there are several others but they-" Red Alert broke off with a roll to the right as another police officer attempted to get him from behind.

He was surrounded- His head tilted up towards the rooftops, before his gaze went back down to a sewer hole behind the police officer. He had no intentions of becoming their next victim, not by a long shot.

Two looks passed between the officers, one that Red Alert knew only too well. It was a 'He-is-crazy' look. "I'm not crazy!"

"Of course not!" One of the officers said with false cheer, tackling him around the shoulders. "You're going to be joining the rest of your friends, however; somewhere nice and quiet…"

A shock jolted through him as his optics flickered and dimmed, before he knew no more.

-------------

The nurse at the psychiatry ward shook her head sadly as she got a good look at the mech.

He was damaged, dents being the most common. Wherever he had come from, it didn't seem likely that he had an easy life. The officer standing next to the downed body looked slightly remorseful as he shifted from foot to foot. "I know it's a lot to ask of you, but do you know anywhere where he could go? He doesn't seem violent, but he seems to be paranoid…"

"Oh, it's fine dear. Ever since those with Glitches were ordered to be taken off the streets, there's been a large strain on the facilities to get enough rooms… There's still room at Char's Hospital."

The nurse glanced down, frowning again as there was a weak moan from the unpainted mech. "How long did you put him out for?"

"I-I thought for at least five orns…"

The horns on either side of the helm flashed bright blue, as the figure stirred once more, hands attempting to enclose around open air. Then, optics flickered on dimly, staring up at the police officer.

The nurse's breath hissed as she watched the officer's faceplate pale slightly. "Nurse, knock him out now." The flat tone stirred a response as the mech attempted to struggle into a sitting position, optics narrowing even further.

The nurse didn't even have to look as she grabbed a needle, and shoved it into a cable of energon.

The mech twitched once, and went still. The nurse cleared her vocalizer. "I-I think I know a better place to move him, if he's going to be that violent."

"And where might that be ma'm?" The officer asked breathlessly, still stunned by what he had seen in the mech's optics.

"Formally known as The Allspark Well, it deals with those who are more…violent." She was about to go on, but she noticed that the police officer wasn't paying attention. "Is something the matter officer?"

"What?" He shook himself, and attempted to dredge up a smile. "No, nothing."

He didn't dare tell her he had just looked into optics that told him the mech had killed before- "I think he'd be best in solitary confinement."

The nurses head tilted to one side, before she nodded slowly. "I'll…add that to his notes."

* * *

a/n: This is a four part fic, come from the bunny farm! And reviews will make me happy, but aren't necessary to the finishing of the fic. But I still love them though.


	2. Captured

Feet strode briskly along the hallway as the mech stared down at the profile. There was no background- maybe he had come from the slums, which would explain a lot about the violence, paranoia, and the officer's wish for solitude.

Too bad there weren't any confinements that were perfectly soundproof. The mech sighed as he slid the datapad away, shaking his head.

Behind the doorway he could hear the soft footfalls as the newest prisoner quietly - expertly- searched the room, finding and destroying each bug he came across. The mech paused behind the one-way mirror, staring at the newbie.

He was a Lamborghini, slinking along the wall as if he were in a war movie, optics alert despite the sleepiness that should still be clinging to him. One hand slid across the wall, tapping softly at different areas, head cocked as if he was listening for the bugs themselves.

The mech fingered his arm, contemplative as he stared at him. They needed a new test subject. Somebody had mentioned that they would like to see what would happen if a sensor system was upgraded, and he was always willing to provide a subject.

Just so long as the subject wouldn't be missed. And he _knew_ this subject wouldn't be missed. Even after an hour at a console, there was still no background file on the Lamborghini, no matter how many cross-references he ran it through.

The Lamborghini wouldn't be missed, mourned, or even thought of. For Primus' sake, the person whom had dragged him in had asked that he be placed in solitary confinement!

Confident, the mech quickly punched in his code. The Lamborghini's head snapped to the side to look at him, as every line of his body tense. "Hello there! Do you know where you are?"

"Some kind of prison or holding facility of course."

The mech frowned at the soft voice of one whom was simply wary- not really afraid. "Half correct. You're in an insane asylum."

That made the Lamborghini flinch as his optics burned into the others. "A- _what_?"

"An insane asylum. And congratulations, you were chosen to be a special test subject."

The Lamborghini tensed even further, and the mech smirked. Perfect. This one would be perfect. "Grack!" The choked, a gargling noise of surprise filling the room as the Lamborghini tackled him, a rifle coming out from nowhere to shove into the space that was supposed to be his mouth.

Above him he could feel the Lamborghini shaking slightly, optics wild. "I _refuse_ to be a test subject. There's no telling what you'll do to me!"

A whimper threatened to break out of his vocalizer as he stared cross-eyed up the rifle. _Where did he get this? I thought only guards and those with special licenses were allowed to have weapons, at least that's the law, but we all know how the law turns out, and this mech does have a weapon, and oh Primus just one twitch and I'm going to be dead._

The Lamborghini looked up at the doorway, and back down at the prisoner, silently making a decision. "I want to know the code to all of the doors _now_."

An answering gargle was all that answered him. The Lamborghini let up on the pressure, and he took a deep breath. "Code Alpha, Alpha, Zero, Three, One, Zero."

It was the code that said that the prisoner was ready to kill.

The Lamborghini's optics narrowed. "The true code, or I will start blowing off body parts." Was it just his imagination, or did a slightly queasy look come into the other's optics at the thought of it? No- must have been the trick of the light for it was hidden now.

"That was-"

The gun hammer cocked back.

"No, no, the real code is Alpha Delta, Zero, Three, One, Zero." He squeaked. It was the code for, 'I-am-probably-now-dead-so-kill-the-mech-entering-the-code'.

The Lamborghini's vocalizer flickered on, before he leapt to the side. A tranquilizer gun slammed into the space he once occupied as several large guards entered the room. "Get him!" The mech on the floor screamed.

Blue optics slammed into his for a split moment, promising violent revenge, before the contact was broken. The mech on the floor took in a deep, calming breath despite the fact he didn't need one, and let it out slowly. "I want him placed in our deepest, darkest cell where he'll never see natural light again!" He distantly realized that it was hysteria speaking, but he didn't care.

All he wanted was to never have to face the mech ever again.

-----------

Red Alert stirred slowly, CPU pounding, feeling as if it were splitting in half. He groaned softly, a hand coming up to grab a wildly sparking horn. The familiar action did nothing to appease his CPU ache.

A cruel, mocking laugh came from the doorway, "Aww, is the little guy feeling some pain?"

Automatically he recoiled from the door, CPU working desperately to drag up the memory files of what had happened before he had been knocked out.

He had been trapped in some room, and had been aware of the various crudely hidden bugs that had been watching him. He had just destroyed the more obvious ones, and had gone after the hidden ones, when someone had interrupted, and he had pulled an Ironhide.

Well, Ironhide would've been insulted that he had done the move so sloppily, but it still had its desired effect. Not that it had really mattered in the end. The guards had still come in. But he supposed Inferno would've been proud of his threat. Inferno had always been telling him he was too weak-hearted, and needed to toughen himself up.

"Hey, newbie, not gonna reply?"

_Slagit! Red Alert, pay more attention to your surroundings! Who knows what the guards could've done in the time you weren't paying attention?_

"Where am I? I don't understand…" Classical clueless. Most mechs loved to monologue, so maybe these guards would…

"You're in an insane asylum."

Well, these mechs could teach a tooth about how to be painful in extraction. "But what about the war going on?"

A laugh was startled out of one of the guards. "War? What _war_? There's no war."

His spark stopped pulsing. _No…no war? How? How is that possible? I thought that the whole entire tale about peace before war was just that. A tale._

"What are you talking about?" Red Alert demanded. "There is a war going on! Decepticons verses Autobots, or at least, that was until Galvatron came along with his insane army and tried destroying everything…"

"Whoo, boy. This ones defiantly a loonie! Listen to those tales he spins." The guards shook their heads at each other, and began strolling off.

Numbly, Red Alert watched them go, then retreated to a corner of the room, head shaking, entire body trembling with the want to know more information. Had he come into the past? An alternate reality where there would be no war? If that was so, was he doomed to spend the rest of his life within this tiny room?

His optics swept the cramped cell in worry. Rust could set into joints if one didn't move around enough, and desperately he searched his subspace.

There was nothing left. The mechs had done a clean sweep through it, and had completely taken everything from his subspace, including the tools that he had always carried around in case he ever got in this position.

His hands clenched into helpless fists. If only he had managed to get the true code out. No, if only he had dodged the police officer. If only Wheeljack hadn't been tinkering around- he always knew it was going to be the death of them all someday.

For how long he stayed crouched in his corner, he didn't know. He could feel tiredness beginning to creep in, but disregarded it as, seeing as he had been tranquilized twice now. It was undoubtedly the drug lingering in his systems.

He began to pace, a hand running along the wall. He was already beginning to go crazy from the lack of anything to do… That wasn't a good sign. In fact, it was a very _bad_ sign. His teeth ground together as he once again desperately searched his subspace for anything to _do_.

To his surprise, in the very corner, he found an old datapad. Quietly he flicked it on, optics lighting up as he recognized old plans for different bases. Most of them had been destroyed- overwhelmed by sheer numbers, but this was still something to do.

He flicked through each of the plans, optics devouring the little details, until at last he came across the Ark's plans.

He stopped dead, memories rushing in to fill the suddenly empty void that opened up deep within his spark. This hallway here was well marked for hearing Bumblebee's one and only true laugh. That hallway over there was marked for the fact it was the only time Ironhide hadn't had his cannons pulsing with deadly energy. The common room was still whispered among the crew for its legendary 'closeness'. It was rumored that two different pairs had sat within touching distance.

Storeroom 54 had even more scandalous rumors of mechs actually _hugging_ each other.

And then… the legendary Storeroom 42. It was spoken of only in quiet tones. It was actually confirmed that mechs had interfaced within the room.

"Well, lookie this boys, it looks like we got someone worth looking at."

Red Alert glanced upwards, startled by the drawling voice. A femme stood in the doorway, holding a baton. _Oh, slag. Am I ever in for a world of pain._

----------

Time literally had no meaning. Mechs, femmes, guards, everyone came and went, torturing, brash, mean. Food was scarce, and there were times he could turn off his optics and convince himself that he was back at the Ark, if it weren't for the single datapad quietly tucked away and hidden.

It was, in the end, one of the last few remaining threads that kept him sane. Or as sane as he could actually be.

Red Alert winced as he flexed his hand, feeling the pain creep into it. Someone had smashed his fingers, and he was afraid that if he didn't keep the hand moving, the self-repair systems would heal the nerves wrongly.

As if taunting him, the dent on one side twanged in memory of the same foot. What he wouldn't give to have a gun or weapon of any kind in his hand, ready to shoot at the nearest, closest mech.

His horns sparked feebly as he placed one shoulder against the wall. He recoiled the next second at the unexpected warmth. Optics rose to the cell door as he stumbled for it, auditory receptors straining to hear the slightest sound.

A shrill beeping noise went off above him, and the deadly cry of, "Fire! Fire!"

Red Alert flinched backwards into his cell, optics going wide. Fire? Here? Now? He pressed one auditory receptor against the wall, optical band flickering off to concentrate on what he was hearing.

"What's going on?"

"The Decepticons are attacking!"

Instantly Red Alert bristled. Decepticons. So, he must have come back into the past, and now Decepticons were attacking. In cells above him he could hear screaming and shouting as others attempted to escape the deadly flames and shots. "Slag…"

He kicked at the door, making others look at him briefly startled, unable to hear the shouts from above. Soon they would however, and then he'd be abandoned here to whatever Fate had in store for him.

Fate never had anything good in store for him. He'd probably be taken by the Decepticons and reprogrammed.

The screams were becoming louder by the astrosecond. Red Alert's foot slammed against the door harder. The guards were looking increasingly rattled by the violent behavior and the faint screams.

Comm. links crackled to life outside of the door. "Get your afts up here on the double! We got an attacking force-"

The words were broken off in a wave of static. Red Alert whispered, "Decepticons, purple insignias. You're all going to die."

The two guards that were supposed to patrol the area shot rattled looks at him. "How do you-"

"No time for questioning now! We gotta get up there!"

The two guards rushed off in a clatter of nervous weaponry as they checked the stunner guns they had. Red Alert felt slightly sorry for them, before he redoubled his efforts on the obstinate door.

Around him he could hear prisoners stirring- those that could stir at least. Some were too badly beaten and used to want to move, or even care. "What's going on?" One prisoner- a very young one, Red Alert remembered. "Where did all of the guards go?"

"Weren't you listening? The voices said that there was a war coming, and look, they were right! We're all going to die!" The cackling mad laugh echoed loudly in the hallway.

Red Alert slammed against the door, and only succeeded in making his shoulder hurt. _I'm not going to get out of here. I wish now I had agreed with the heavier armor instead of the speed and sensor net._

His optics darted around the room, hoping that he might actually spot something that could help. In his CPU's optic, he could see Inferno shaking his head sadly at his smaller friend's wrong thought process.

The heat was becoming more oppressive now.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. He slammed his back against the door, making himself as small as possible. There was nowhere else to hide- they didn't have a proper berth, just a few cables to hook up to recharge. His optics fell on the still uneaten cube of energon, and he spilled half of it out onto the floor, creating just enough of a puddle that it might look like someone had slit their wrists.

He then dribbled it liberally onto his own wrists, before allowing his optics to go off.

The heat dimmed slightly, not able to touch the deep underground chamber. Footsteps began making their way down, as the sounds of shots, screams, and cries of those dying echoed loudly in his auditory receptors.

Now, more then ever, he was becoming homesick. He wanted Inferno, he wanted to be surrounded by those who viewed him oddly for his lack of paranoia, he wanted to be back on the Ark. He desperately wanted to be back on the Ark where the crew's behavior was a comforting, never changing thing.

"Alright, this is the last level." The harsh voice reminded him of someone. The femme that had been the first to brutalize him? "Spread out and kill the lot of them."

Calm, he needed to be calm, and he couldn't allow his horns sparking to give away his fear. Spark quivering in fear, he listened to them shoot straight through the small opening.

Screams of fear pounded loudly on his auditory receptors, nearly drowned out by the beating of his spark.

* * *

a/n: Yay! Cliffhanger!

P.S., the bunny I used was this one: _ 7. [G1] Possibly related to above- Red Alert is a time traveler from a hellish future. He's determined to stop it from happening again at all costs. ("Back home, Inferno used to chide me for being too trusting")_

If anyone knows where to find it, I'd be eternally grateful for it. Because no matter how hard I look, I can't find it. :(


	3. Saved?

Footsteps paused right outside of his doorway, as the mech futilely attempted to look inside. All he saw was a small puddle of energon.

Red Alert began his first prayer. _Primus, let me live, and I swear I will work to my utmost ability to prevent the future in which I come from to never, ever happen._

There was no answer, but Red Alert didn't expect there to be one. Optimus Prime, in one of the rare moments he hadn't barricaded himself away, had mentioned that many of his own prayers had never been answered.

The footsteps began fading away. A sob of relief nearly broke out of his vocalizer, caught only by the knowledge that he wasn't out of the building yet. It would be horrid to survive the Decepticons, only to be killed by hunger.

The door to his cell swung open, as a harsh voice demanded, "You're just faking it, aren't you?"

He resisted the urge to say 'No'. It would be rather counter-productive after all.

The footsteps moved until they were standing right next to his head. A foot nudged him, and he moved limply with the foot. Maybe he should've studied how dead bodies moved like Hound did. Hound could emulate being dead wonderfully. "Hmph, maybe you really are dead."

"C'mon, let's get out of here." A voice called, "The Autobots heard about the attack."

"Did you get the energon?"

"Yep, now let's go."

The femme walked out, slamming the door behind her. Red Alert mentally wept. He now knew that he was going to die from hunger.

He sat up slowly, before dragging himself up to test the door. It refused to open for him. He bit back tears, he needed to conserve as much energon as he could.

Silently he dragged himself to the far corner, and prepared to die.

-------

The fire truck scowled playfully at the femme beside him as he watched the building from out of the corner of his optics. It was an insane asylum, looking bombed out like the rest of the neighborhood. "Inferno, you are not going in there." The femme's firm voice brought his optics back to her.

"But- Firestar! Think about it! There might still be a fire down there."

She leaned across to ping him lightly in the helm. "You have a one-track CPU Inferno. If there is any chance of fire or rescuing someone, you will be there in a nano-click. It'll get you killed one of these days."

Inferno laughed warmly as his head tilted towards her. "Yeah, that's what everyone says."

Firestar glanced around, "So, split up? And I warn you, if I find out that if you've gone within that building you will not be able to walk straight for a week!"

She shook her gun warningly at the fire truck, before pelting off down another road. Inferno waited for a few moments until she was out of sight before strolling towards the building.

Smoke still arose from the building, but it meant nothing- it could've just been ash rising from the heat.

Inferno pried open a damaged door, optics scanning the darkened hallway. Carefully he eased his weight onto the floor tiles- he had learned that lesson the hard way after falling through a mostly melted floor. "Hello?"

Silence.

Hands pried open a door to a small cell. There, a curled up figure -shot to death- lay on the floor. His optics narrowed as he spotted dents, some rather old for being beaten just before being shot.

The fire truck continued down the hallway, taking the stairs down further and further.

In every room, more and more evidence of abuse appeared. Inferno eventually stopped looking, spark aching for the poor souls trapped within the four walls. As he walked he sent up a silent prayer to Primus to receive the souls…

He stopped before a door, containing a single prisoner, curled up in the corner. A puddle of energon lay nearby the door. Wait- that made no sense. Inferno frowned at the puddle, before looking back towards the prisoner.

"Hey there, are ya still alive?"

Startled, the mech ran over, and Inferno found himself staring into surprised blue optics. "A-Are you…"

Inferno smiled in relief. At least he could rescue _someone_ from this mess. "Hello there, Ah know ya don't know me, but Ah'm gonna get ya out of here and somewhere safer."

The mech recoiled, instant fear coloring his optics into a deeper blue. Inferno glowered at the door, before his gaze transferred to the keycode. "You wouldn't happen to know the code, would you?"

Silence.

Inferno sighed as he ripped the keypad from out of the wall. The door jerked slightly, opening up just a crack. That was all he needed to jam a hand into the small space and begin hauling back.

The mech in the corner curled into an even smaller ball as -grunting and groaning- Inferno slid the door open just enough to allow someone to slip through. "Can ya get outta there?"

The mech glanced from the fire truck to the door, weighing options.

In a surprising burst of speed, the Lamborghini rolled through the door and out into the hallway. Inferno allowed the door to slide shut behind him, and stared at the mech quietly. "So… who are ya?"

The Lamborghini's head tilted towards him before he glanced away uncomfortably. "Red Alert."

Inferno extended a hand. "Really? My name's Inferno. Very nice to meet ya."

---

As Red Alert took the extended hand, he began to think about fate. Fate that hated him. Not only was there an exact _clone_ of Inferno before him, but the very voice was the same. The only thing different was the actions.

Where Inferno had been paranoid and high-strung, this mech was CPU-bogglingly loose and easy-going. It wrenched his spark to see his highly respected friend become like this now.

From the well beloved paranoia to this weak… happiness. Of course, he often experienced his own bouts of insane non-paranoia, but it seemed like this _copy_ of Inferno was completely insane all of the time.

It really did hurt the spark. "Nice to meet you as well." Red Alert muttered, skating over the lie. It was better that 'Inferno' grew to like him. If such a thing was possible…

The copy smiled, something sparkling in his optics, before it faded slightly. "So, um, why are ya…?"

He paused, not able to bluntly ask why Red Alert was within this place. Yet another mark against his favor. "The police officer that found me disliked me for some reason and locked me up in here." Red Alert shivered at past memories.

The copy looked at him with an odd look on his face. Although Red Alert couldn't place it, it was commonly known as 'sympathy'. But the look quickly faded as the fire truck continued, "Are ya certain? I mean, if it's for any homicidal tendencies…"

A score in favor of the copy of Inferno was hidden within those words. Smart of the mech to ask whether or not he had been a traitor or killed before. "The only time I killed was in self-preservation."

"Well, that- how long have ya been down here anyways?"

Red Alert shrugged uncomfortably. His CPU wasn't certain what to say, or even what to do. How was one supposed to handle those completely insane? All his life he had been surrounded by those who were much more paranoid than him. He wasn't certain if this was another loony that had managed to escape, and decided to strike up a random conversation. Though _how_ he escaped would be another question entirely.

"Hey…C'mon, let's get outta here."

Red Alert followed the fire truck warily. _I will not call him Inferno. I refuse to call him Inferno. Calling him Inferno would be an insult to the real Inferno._

With that firm thought, he followed the fire truck up the winding stairs. It was the only way out as far as he could tell, and judging from the creaking of the building, it was probably going to be the fastest way before the building collapsed on them.

Bright light, poured through a window, and Red Alert's optics flickered in pain as they attempted to adjust sensitivity to the bright light. Inferno- no, the _copy_- grunted as he shook his head. "C'mon we gotta hurry before this building caves in on us."

Red Alert needed no prodding. Quickly he picked up his feet, nearly outpacing the copy. One of Smokescreen's old lessons came back to him. _"Remember Red, always let the other guy go first. If anyone shoots, they'll be shot first."_

Inferno glanced behind him to his silent shadow. Red Alert wondered if he was returning to sanity and feeling uncomfortable about his presence. "Ya alright back there?"

He was no such thing. "I'm fine. Let's get out of here. The building is going to fall on us, or the Decepticons left behind a surprise package of bombs and are gonna blow us up."

An optic ridge rose, as Inf-- the copy bit back a laugh. "I don't think the 'Cons would waste bombs doing so. I think they thought they already did a rather thorough job."

Red Alert burned with the wish to tell him where exactly he could shove that thought process before he merely kept his words to a quiet, "You can never be certain, though."

"Yeah, Ah suppose." A look of dawning comprehension was rapidly traveling across the fire truck's face however- as if he now understood the real reason why Red Alert was in this place.

Red Alert very much wished to know why he was in an insane asylum. Maybe he was in for not being paranoid enough? Wouldn't that be the grease on the oil cake? After all those threats, someone had finally carried it out.

"Hey, C'mon Red… let's get outta here."

The last few staircases up were the most torturous as his optics attempted to adjust to the brilliant light after the extended period of darkness, and as his joints squeaked and protested painfully against the sudden exercise. _Note to self, see if you can't get lubricant._

Ahead, a head twisted to look at him. "Somethin' the matter? You aren't walking very well."

"Just joints falling back into place. Some of the guards were particularly mean." Anything to dodge around the fact that he had to have been in the dungeons for probably about a vorn. It wouldn't look good.

Infer- the copy's face darkened. "That's right. I saw…" He stopped, face visibly twisting in angry hatred at the guards that had been so clearly abusing their power.

Red Alert skittered away from the fire truck. Inferno glanced at him before offering up a hesitant smile. "Hey, if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm willing to listen."

Red Alert nodded distantly. He wasn't likely to say anything about his stay here to this pathetic version of Inferno. So smiling, and so trusting- it made him slightly sick, even as it intrigued him.

How had Inferno- no, this _copy;_ he really had to remember that – survived in the world? Was everyone like him?

That would be a horror story just waiting to catch him unawares.

Inferno grunted as he walked out into the blessedly bright light. Red Alert flinched, before following close enough behind to be Inferno's shadow. "You sure you're alright? You're rather quiet…"

The words startled him out of self-contemplation and scheming. "Is not talking a bad thing?"

"Well, no, of course not! But, still…" Inferno trailed off uncomfortably. Red Alert desperately searched for some way to pump the 'copy' for information.

"Inferno-" Oh how the name burned in his vocalizer "-you're part of the Autobots, correct? What do you do?"

"Yeah, I'm part of the Autobots." Inferno seemed to immensely cheer up at the question, "I'm part of the search and rescue squad, along with doubling as fire control. Unfortunately we don't get too many fires…"

Inferno chattered on as Red Alert listened, CPU twisting desperately for some reason to get a back history. "But, you know, when Optimus Prime got someone named Prowl to be his second in command, I was a little surprised since I had heard that Prowl had problems crashing when something illogical happened. Met him once, but it wasn't, ya know… anything formal. I saw him at a distance."

It sounded like his Prowl, except for the Prowl he knew never, ever showed himself to the public optic, and it had taken around thirteen vorns for anyone to even register that he was actually an officer and not some silent, wafting shadow.

It had been an ugly wake up call for some, especially for him. He had always known his powers of observation were weaker then the others, but to not notice the officer? That took some doing.

Inferno turned around with that goofy grin stretched across his face. "By the way, I suppose you're joining the Autobots?"

A slow nod. Inferno instantly slung an arm around is shoulders, ignoring the automatic stiffening beneath. "That's great. You'll probably have to be assigned to my squad for awhile…"

Inferno chattered on, as Red Alert followed, frowning slightly.

* * *

a/n: Very many thanks to those who took the time to re-review after fanfiction broke down on us. (trust me, I noticed as well) It certainly brightened my day and reassured me this piece isn't as hated as I thought it might be. :)


	4. The Decision

Future to past, past to future. Time was linear.

Red Alert knew all of this… and yet… _I wonder if I did get transferred to one of those Alternate Universes? Everyone is so…innocent._

He twitched as yet another mech threatened to intrude on the small invisible bubble surrounding him. For some odd reason smiles abounded. Real smiles, not smirks or sneers. Beside him, Inferno chattered off the auditory receptor of a mech willingly listening. Not only listening, but also making appropriate noises and sounds at proper intervals.

Confusing.

Blue optics rapidly scanned the room again, spotting faces that were familiar yet not.

They _looked_ like the mechs he had worked with, once upon a time, but they weren't. This small yellow minibot was happily smiling and chattering to a listening Datsun without a hint of the mad paranoia that once kept the mech entirely in the vents unless necessary.

The smile on that visored mech was without guile or the thinness that usually accompanied it. Instead he was drifting here, there, everywhere.

Not a single punch had been thrown once as mechs intermingled and accidentally bumped into each other. Red Alert had been counting on a fight before now. Really, he had been anticipating it for a long time, and the waiting was beginning to wear onto his nerves.

_Crunch_. The sound of metal slamming against metal in a distinctive punching sound echoed in the room.

Instantly, room cleared around the two mechs, as dismayed whispers ran through the room. Red Alert almost smiled, controlling it at the last possible moment. He should've known.

Red and yellow mechs faced off against each other, hands clenched into tight fists. Red Alert sipped his cube, anticipating the fight to come. Beside him he heard a dismayed murmur. "Oh no, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are at it again."

He ought to be worried- that he knew. But the two twins always fought. And he wasn't about to interrupt now.

"Quick, someone stop them before Ratchet sees and makes our next checkups painful." The voice was instantly rebuked.

"_You_ go stop them then. I'm not going anywhere near."

Some things never changed apparently. Obviously Sunstreaker's temper hadn't changed much in the past. And there was still no one willing to break up their fights as well.

In the crowd, Red Alert had a brief image of a black and white datsun, before the shifting mass of mechs covered him up. Instinctively he shrank back. Prowl wasn't the most violent of mechs, but the torture he inflicted through paperwork and the lengths he went from pure paranoia was altogether _astounding_.

And in no way did Red Alert wish to become part of that. As far as he was concerned, Prowl could do whatever he wanted…

A vocalizer cleared dangerously from the doorway. Both twins' heads snapped up to the mostly white bot standing in the doorway. "Oh-" One began.

"Slag." Finished the other.

_Those two are in trouble now. Only Ratchet's ever been able to cow them._ Earth idiom slipped into his CPU.

His optics shuttered in surprise. It had been a long time since he had thought about Earth and its inhabitants. _Earth was destroyed and its inhabitants entirely killed. I don't quite remember, since I was just a youngling at the time but…_ He felt slightly sorry for the planet he had grown up on, but one couldn't change the past.

One couldn't, could they?

Red Alert frowned as his CPU began calling up memory files of stories that Ironhide used to tell him before it was decided that the stories were holding him back from his true paranoia potential and stopped.

One of the memory files, about someone named… _Pipes? No, he was killed a few years after that. Hot Rod? Noooo… That's it, Springer. The Wreckers._

The name was all that was needed to unlock the memory file.

_Ironhide glanced down at the small sparkling. "What went really wrong in the war? I suppose that would be the day that the Wrecker Crew became disbanded because Springer was killed."_

"_Who's Springer? How did he get killed?"_

"_That? Oh, Springer was one of them legendary triple-changers that got wiped out during the war. He was the leader of one of the best fighting units, called the Wreckers."_

"_If he was one of the best warriors, then how did he get killed?"_

"_Betrayal of course. A mech going to see him tossed in a bomb and ran. The bomb only took out that room, the walls were too thick." Ironhide looked slightly reminiscent. "It would've happened on day 45 of year 99961." _

The rest of the memory file described in great detail what the triple changer looked like. "Inferno…"

Inferno jumped from where he had been watching the twins in worry. "Yeah?"

"What year is it? What day is it?"

"Uhh, year 99961, day 44." Inferno's optics shuttered slightly. "Why do ya ask?"

"Do you know someone named Springer?"

"Yeah, he's commander of the Wreckers. He was my commander for awhile, before I got drafted into Search and Rescue-" Well that explained Inferno's fury when he had found out that Ironhide had told that tale to him. "-He's a good mech. In fact, I sometimes still go see him in his office, number 119. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. I was just wondering."

If he sat outside Springer's room for the rest of the day, would he get to see the killer? Wouldn't that be interesting, to see history unfold. He probably couldn't help stop the mech. After all, according to most theories he had heard, one couldn't affect the time stream. It would only loop itself.

With that thought firmly in CPU, Red Alert's attention was once more drawn back to the medic and twins.

He only wished he had a camera.

------------

The next cycle, Red Alert found himself in front of the office.

Along with a queasy moral programming.

He didn't know who installed the thing, all he wanted to know was how to shut it up. _We shouldn't let him die, and you know that. The same way you knew that you should've broken up the twins' fight!_

Growling to himself, Red Alert shook his head. He couldn't change the time stream. He didn't _dare_ change the time stream. If he did… There was no telling what might happen.

More importantly, he didn't want to be stuck among all of these crazily non-paranoid mechs. It was driving him up the wall every breem to see them casually leave holes in their defenses, and not even notice them.

_If you want to change that, then take charge yourself._ Again, the moral programming was beginning to sound a lot more like his logic chip.

He shoved the thought out of his CPU. Or at least attempted too. The problem with not thinking about something was that one must think about it in order to not think about it. His CPU was beginning to hurt.

Optics snapped up warily as a mech started coming down the hallway. He looked around, pretending to be lost. No one _should've_ fallen for it, but the other mech didn't bother sparing him a glance.

One score in his favor.

Red Alert shifted uneasily as yet again his moral programming began to scream and shout in anger. He wasn't very happy with the situation either. But one mech couldn't change the future… right?

_Only one way to find out. Now get out there and do your job._ His moral programming was beginning to sound miffed.

Now he knew he was going insane. The voices in his head were beginning to take on a personality. This was going to be bad.

The mech was about to enter the room, when Red Alert cleared his vocalizer awkwardly. "Excuse me-"

The mech stiffened, but kept his optics on the door. Red Alert wondered why even as he forced his vocalizer to come up with a proper excuse. "I'm looking for Prowl's office. You wouldn't happen to know where it is, would you?"

"Three doors to the right." The utterly stiff reply was addressed to the door.

"I'm sorry, you'll have to speak up." Out of thin air, Red Alert plucked one of the stupidest reasons the twins ever gave. "My auditory receptors are damaged because an old grandma saw who her daughter was marrying."

All of the terms, Red Alert belatedly realized, were completely human in origin. Slag. This was a time before humans were discovered.

In a slightly louder voice, the mech snapped, "Three doors to the right."

He was still facing the door. Red Alerts optics narrowed. "Is there a reason why you're facing the door?"

"No." The mech clearly regretted the answer as soon as he said it.

_Aha, we have got our bomber. Now, where's the bomb?_

His optics swept the form, and optics widened. "What's in your hand-"

The mech whirled, lobbing the bomb at him. For a moment, Red Alert could only watch the round ball arc into the air, before the well-ingrained actions sent him scurrying for cover.

He hit the open key to the door next to him, and slammed it shut behind him, locking it.

Behind him he saw a startled faceplate as he leapt over the desk, and slid beneath it, yanking the mech down with him. "Bomb." He managed to get out, before a resounding explosion echoed down the hallway.

The door blew inwards, hitting the desk with a resounding clang. Red Alert flinched from his curled up fetal position. Beside him the other mech winced. _Knowing my luck, the door blowing killed Springer anyways._

A voice, one that he had never heard before, shouted, "What's going on? Optimus Prime, are you alright?"

Every cable in Red Alert went taut as he turned to actually _see_ whom he had just bunkered down with. The red and blue truck's head was poked above the desk. "Springer?"

The green mech standing in the doorway looked faintly relieved. Red Alert was anything but relieved. He had altered the time stream. Could he now expect a giant lightening bolt to come out of nowhere and strike him dead?

"Oh good, you are alright. What happened?"

Prime's steady gaze turned to the still crouching Red Alert. "I believe we have an answer right here."

Red Alerts CPU warned him not to tell the truth. They would never believe him, and at worst would accuse him of being a fellow conspirator. "I was lost, and I asked this mech standing in front of a doorway if he knew where I was, and he said yes, but wouldn't face me, so I thought it was suspicious looking and I kept on questioning him, and keeping him out in the hallway when I thought I saw a twinkle of a bomb and made to double check but he threw the bomb at me and it exploded-"

The rambling, confused explanation would've done Smokescreen proud if he had been there. Smokescreen was always saying such things, just to watch others squirm uncomfortably. Him, Bluestreak, Jazz, and several others. Smokescreen was one of the best known however. With Jazz you were never certain.

Springer's optic ridge rose. "Paranoid?" He offered dryly.

Red Alert liked Springer in that instant. No one had ever complimented him like that before. It made one happy to be here.

Now his CPU was firmly on a path. Sort of. Red Alert still felt a touch of uneasiness at what he had just done….

Several other mechs began to rush into the room as Red Alert slowly straightened to his feet, before automatically ducking as one gestured with a gun. "Prime, what happened?"

"Apparently a bomb was let off before it could reach its target." Prime's soft voice was slightly grim, but the leader kept his CPU under control. Red Alert wasn't about to speak up again. They would certainly poke holes into his story and tell him that he should've done something different.

"As for the rest of you, find the mech who did this. Get to the Security Director and have him check out who did this. And as for the next part of the day, I'd like for someone to take…" Prime trailed off as he realized that he had never gotten the name of the mech that had come charging into his room.

Red Alert offered meekly, "My designation is Red Alert, sir."

"Take Red Alert to the medbay-" Red Alert stiffened. There was no way he was going to the medbay- "After which take him to Prowl's office to get all of the information possible."

Red Alert allowed himself to be led out, wishing very, very quietly that he had been given over to Ironhide and not Prowl. He respected Prowl, but actually talking to Prowl? Primus save him, that tactician would poke a hole into any of the lies he told.

Ratchet's examination was passed in dumb silence as he attempted to bring his rattled CPU together into story that could possibly sound plausible.

In what felt like moments, he was sitting in front of Prowl, story still not fully thought out. Well, he did have a story, but he was debating on which side to present himself as.

Moral programming whispered to protect this innocence he found himself surrounded by.

Logic and his Spark wanted everyone to be back the way they were: Paranoid.

A swirl of chattering, laughing voices rose from out beyond the door as Prowl gestured to a seat. There were no booby traps, there was no suspicion. Only the look of someone ready to listen.

Wrong, it was all wrong, yet completely _right_ at the same time.

Somewhere, deep within him, he wanted this beautiful dream – for dream it must be – to last as long as possible. "I'm Red Alert, trained to be a security officer, sir! I had just arrived on base and I was planning on surveying possible security risks when I saw something odd…"

It was a beautiful dream, and Red Alert could only hope it would last.

-Fini

* * *

_a/n: Finally done! Everyone may now celebrate! Many thanks to the reviewers! _


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